It all had started somewhere in the time line
by Adja
Summary: Let's just say Mac has a single room at Hearst and that there was no 3x01 clash, but, the end scene with Dick and Logan happened. Every chapter is from a different POV, the 1st and the last are reversed. The song referances are funnier to be known.
1. It all started those ways

It had all started when your bff Dick had showed up at your door, looking miserable and cried in your arms. You had offered him to stay and he had agreed, but then, a few minutes later, he had gotten up and said he had something to do, or to check, you don't remember exactly his words. You remember painfully that, before leaving, he had checked himself in the mirror next to the entrance door, be instead of, as usual, grinning at himself, he had pursed his lips and uttered that he couldn't look worse. Which was kinda true. He could have. But he had never, of what you can recall.

And he had come back the day after, looking a little better and rested, so you, Logan Echolls, had assumed he had found another place to stay. But he moved in anyway, despite the fact he often spent the night outside, he leaved officially here with you. And even if he didn't sleep here most of the nights, he slept here by day.

So you didn't mind, since your friend seemed to be better, and you could enjoy the company of each other again.

¤

I had all started when you started your year at Hearst, you had heard through Veronica that Dick was back and a mess. And it was indeed a wretch that showed up at your door that night. You had opened the door, expecting to see Veronica or Wallace hiring you for a late night take out. Instead, she'd found herself staring back in Dick's deep blue pools.

He looked so lost and so young all of a sudden, that though you didn't really like him, you'd felt your hand rise and touch his cheek. The contact burning both of you because the pain was still so vivid. And he had fallen into your arms, and you had welcomed it, felt good. He'd kicked the door shut and leaned against it, just holding you. Just that.

And he'd spent the night, it was unexpected to say the least, that you had both found comfort in each other. But he also brought you warmth by holding you against him. And when he'd left the first time, you'd realized that you hadn't exchanged a single word. But when he had appeared again the evening after that, you'd had talked. A little, and every time a little more.

And when he'd left the second time he'd hold your face and put a long kiss on your forehead. It was something like a mutual 'thank you'.

And though you knew it was wrong, it had kept going. And going.

¤

It had all started at his funerals. You had heard someone say that he was a monster, and had punched him. Because you couldn't bear that. Funerals are for those who love. Not for vultures. If someone despised your blood lying dismembered in that coffin, he had nothing to do here.

And you'd seen her. Later you'd heard what he had done to all those people in detail. To her. And felt so bad that you had been mean to her. To him. To them.

And when she'd welcomed you that night, or maybe just let you in, you'd felt the tiny spark of hope bringing you back on the good path. Or just turning your around on your way to hell for your back to face the worst end.

Every time you feel her inside your embrace, you feel a little better, a little less worthless. When you share memories with her you know she's the only one to understand. And it feels right, though you know it's wrong, to be with her, almost every night, in her room, talking or cuddling the other to sleep.

Because you both never slept that well when the other one wasn't around.

¤

It had all started at a party. The last one party you ever attended before being a complete outcast. You'd been drugged, and the fact that it was accidentally didn't excuse it. You were raped. That was unforgivable.

And after that, a friend with who you grew closer with time started dating the guy, who of course you didn't know to be guilty at the time. And when he'd jumped off a roof months later, you found out the monster he was. You though a part of you had died when he blew up the plan you thought at the time your dad was in.

And it hit you like a bullet when you realized that he'd left his girlfriend all alone in her hotel room, without clothes. And a second bullet hit you when you reached the parking lot, and found Dick Casablancas, sat, catatonic, on the ground, like a vision of Duncan branded on your memory, surrounded by paramedics. The sight was awful. There was Mac, wrapped in a towel, freezing and crying, there was him, dumb, and there was the car, behind them, on which the monster had plastered, taking with him the nice shy boy. Only one of his hands was showing. Bloody, motionless, dead hand.

So when after the beginning of the new school year at Hearst, your friend Mac had started to look better and smile again, you hadn't mind not knowing why. You assumed that she would tell you when ready. And it had made you a better person because you'd tried to do it with the others too.

¤

It had all started in a little league team. You had been tortured. You don't ever wanna remember what that monster did to you. And you feel so bad that hiding it, separating, dividing yourself on two parts to push away the pain had turned you into the same monster.

When you jumped, subconsciously you knew you were making the good decision. At some level it was.

But you hurt people. But to suppress the hidden madness, growing in you like a hissing snake, you had to suppress the boy everyone knew. Because the link between them couldn't be severed. As much as you hoped it could.

When you witnessed the pain you'd left behind you felt horrible. You were full now, you were complete. The evil in you had been washed. But you couldn't do anything for them. Or, you could, but nothing much. Keep them from the worth, but couldn't help them on the way to solace.

You'd kept the hand of your brother to slid the razor on that wrist, though a scar remained there, and you knew he cherished it as a memory of you.

You'd kept Mac from drinking that cup and sleep with that guy. Not because you where jealous, because it would have destroyed her.

So when you saw the two people you cared about find each other, help each other heal, you were happy. You were soon surprised, too, at how many beautiful memories they had of you.


	2. Good joke, bad thinking

Mac rolled on her stomach, bitting her nails. She was lying on her bed, knowing Dick was bound to show up soon. And the fact that she was waiting for him bothered her beyond understanding. Not the waiting. They both used to look forward to those reunions, but something had changed.

It was Tuesday. Last Friday, Wallace had joked about Mac having a secret affair, and she'd felt weird. Like, somehow, it was true, right ?

Dick had showed up at nine and he had brought a dvd. She remembered when he had pushed himself deep on her pillows and settled her laptop on his lap and opened one arm for her to take place.

Yeah, Wallace was right. It looked like that. It really did. But it wasn't. At the moment, she had just settled her head in the nest of his shoulder, and spend the movie joking with him. At the end of it, he had just shut down the computer and set it aside the bed, shifting on his side and holding her before drifting into sleep.

She'd spent the week end thinking about it. It was a friendship. That was cuddling but no couple like cuddling. Like... when Veronica was single -Logan was a little too grabby when they were together and the blond girl didn't seem to mind- and she shared a tender moment with Wallace. It was often private because people usually misunderstand those with flirting, but they didn't.

There was contact, but no caressing, of any kind. Just holding. In their case, to share a feeling, at least at the beginning. Now it was more like habit. Old couple habit. Then again !

And she had when psycho over the week end. She had wondered if it was morphing into something else she hadn't seen coming. And when Monday came, and she knew he would come, she had thought it was casual, until he'd come and he had greeted her with a huge smile. That was when the fear took over.

The feeling inside when he was facing her and smiling down at her was wrong, way wrong. Because they both knew who he was. And who she wasn't. And vice versa.

All the evening she had been awkward and when he had looked at her in the eye, asking her what was wrong, she had felt like crying. Over herself, because it had just struck her that all she was waiting for was to kiss him. And that would, should, could never happen. Ever.

First, she didn't want to. Second, he would kill her if he suspected anything.


	3. Pain and confession

When you opened your door to him, you knew there is no living soul in the hallway. It was always like that. He took a step forward and froze when you didn't step aside. You saw in his eyes that you were betraying him, he was feeling like you had just stabbed him, as he left, after you had told him it couldn't happen anymore.

And you felt awful, because you'd given him some random excuse, since the truth must never be known. And you felt awful because you hurt him. And you felt awful because you missed him. Because this morning when he'd left for the last time, his ritual kiss on your forehead made your heart beat so hard and fast that you wondered how the hell he hadn't noticed it. Because you missed him so bad and now your evenings were going to be so cold.

But you knew, deep inside, that it helped both of you, at least for the time it had lasted. And though you'd lost a friend tonight, you knew that _he _is alright now. The pain won't last long. He'd healed his wounds. You had got new ones he couldn't help you with.

It was Tuesday again, and had been a week since you've seen Dick. He never showed up again, and you knew it would be this way. But it didn't make it less painful.

You listened to The show must go on, and try to make up your mind on which one you like the most. The Queen version, or the Moulin Rouge one. What bothered you with that movie was that, usually covers suck back if you know the original, not here. And when you thought _'totally not'_ your heart sank and you had to start singing another time not to go back in the memory lane.

_Fucking memory lane. _

And Dick's words again.

¤

When the knock on your door echoed, you knew right away it wasn't him, although you could have carried on with your dream until you opened the door but you didn't. You opened the door knowing it wouldn't be him, nor Veronica. Everyone has their own way of knocking, and _this_ wasn't any of them. You had mastered the stupid art of recognizing the people that came to see you by their knocking. Boy, such an fascinating hobby !

But never in hell you had expected to stare at Logan, his hand still frozen in mid air, looking rather sheepish.

You let him in and asked him if he wanted something to drink. As he didn't answer, you turned around and saw him simpling looking around at your place like he was getting the impression of it. The _feeling _like in-people say.

He sat on your bed and you sat beside him. For a second you panicked, wondering if he had come to ask you the best way to break up with Veronica without hurting her. But no, instead he sighed deeply and told you he thought he had figured out something.

He told you that, a few weeks ago, maybe a month and a half, Dick had left the suite as usual, but gotten right back. And you wince as he describe you the way Dick acted. He'd come in and when Logan had asked him what had gone wrong he had just stared at him, looking like he was going to break something. But he apparently had decided against it, or felt too tired. And since then, he was at the suite every night. Not really looking sad. But... mute.

And, then, Logan said, Veronica had made a comment about you being more available at night but, sad, like Wallace had been right when he had mentioned a secret affair, that would have been done.

"So I figured..." Logan said. "And, every time we happen to be near you he makes a quick exit. Which isn't his style. Especially with you. You looked like you were kinda friends. But, now... I guess it as more." You sighed. And you burst into laugh, because anyway you tried to escape it, you couldn't. And your laugh turned into tears and you ended up in Logan's arms. And all you could notice was that, even if he held you gently, it wasn't like Dick did, and that he didn't smell like him, feel like him.

You take your time to explain it wasn't like he'd thought. That Dick and you had a strange relationship but it wasn't like you were seeing the other. Except for the 'seeing with eyeballs' part.

And you tried to chuckle with him at your comment but you couldn't.


	4. Hey back

Mac pursed her lips, glancing around. It's been a while since she'd attended a party solo. At all, actually. But Veronica had said she would be here later and Logan had begged her to come. So she did.

She was resolutely in the opposite corner as Dick was. She knew what Logan was trying to do, but he was just hurting her. Because Dick didn't seem to care. Or he did, but he just felt betrayed. She felt bad, because Dick hadn't been the kind of man to trust women, and now, after _her_, she knew he would never be. Once again she had done something wrong.

She was firmly trying to convince herself and everyone she was marvelously ignoring Dick, but she couldn't help looking startled when Logan slapped his best friend on the back of the head.

She turned away before she was seen and decided she was going to go. She felt like she was back in high school. And a stupid girl with a crush.

She put her glass back on the counter and turned around to head out. And found her sight full with a familiar chest in real close-up. She stumbled backward and hit the counter in her hurry to back away.

Dick swayed slightly on his heels and looked at her sheepishly. "I know it's far from original, but... Have we met ?" he asked with a comical grin. Mac couldn't help but grin as she found back the one missing face of her ex daily routine. "Yes, we have. Dick."

He stepped closer, still grinning ironically. "Was that my name, or an insult ?" Mac's lips quirked. "I don't know..." he chuckled.

Then, the moment was gone, they couldn't fool the other. They were unsettled issues between the two of them. She pursed her lips, allowing herself to bask a few seconds in the beat of Bodyrock, by Mody, before looking at him again.

"I'm sorry..." she babbled, words making painfully their way past her throat.

The next thing she knew she was in his arms. He was holding her so tight that she could hardly breathe but all she did was pull harder. Her head was in her place again, and when he shushed her she fought tears of relief. He kissed her temple, her cheek, her neck and rested his head on her hair again.


	5. Irreplaceable

It had been a pretty good while since you hadn't seen your brother so happy. The only time you could remember when he had laughed that easily was the week after Casey's eighteen's birthday, when him and Logan had invited a bunch of strippers to make a show on YMCA and he had kept talking about the Indian for the whole week.

You were happy for them to finally be happy. And, well, it was maybe selfish of you but you were satisfied that Mac was still dating someone of the Casablancas family.

¤

You had had Logan to ease the news on you, because Mac and Dick as a couple was kind of a shock for you. But he'd said that this had started long ago, oddly as a friendship. But you had really had you facing the fact when you had seen Mac's green cute car pulling next to the beach when you and Logan where having a picnic there and that they were both yelling the lyrics of Shaggy's Bombastic.

You had had to admit, they looked cute together, and Dick seemed to care. The thing the more obvious was that he made her laugh. And they were having fun together. So, you accepted this. And made an effort.

People can change, and apparently now, they were going to do it together.

¤

You'd found her back, the one you thought you'd lost because you were a jerk. And then, when you had pulled her flush against you, she hadn't run away.

And never done since.

You remember the day after, when you drove her back to her dormroom and when through her cds, you found a _'love compile'_, and she had told you that it was sort of a joke between her and Veronica. Lily had had this as a soundtrack to her sexual games with her boys. Like Weevil or Logan. So, the two girls had made one on their own.

You were surprised, because it was recent, over the last few month, she had told you. And there were real sexy songs, especially for a virgin at the time. And you had crawled over her, as Garbage's Bad Boyfriend started. She had giggled and kissed you. And you were amazed that she thought of you as worthy of being _the first one. _Because you had been, and so, will always be.

You knew you were the bad boyfriend. But you were going to prove her you could be good too. And you could love. That you did. That you had. Kinda despite yourself. For a while.

¤

You remembered that you felt good when he held you tight. You felt wonderful. But after a moment in his arms, swaying slowly, you knew nothing had changed. You had just won your friend back. But you also remembered why you dreaded having him around.

His lips had touched you third times, as a hello to a close friend he'd missed, but it had been enough to send shivers down your spine. You were not over. And you knew somehow you didn't want to be.

When he kissed you, the world turned right again. And you felt him relax when you kissed him back. With passion.

You had just won your friend back, and much more. And you knew it wasn't without purpose that he put on Where'd You Go, by Fort Minor, the first time he made love to you.

Well, it hadn't been planned. When you had both come at the party that night, you weren't expecting to be friends again at the end of the night, but when it had come to it, it had felt right. You were cuddling and kissing on his bed and he put on music, because you both wanted a quiet moment.

But when his hand hand settled on your waist, heat had started to built inside you. And it had been easy to make the whole thing sexier. He knew, you were a virgin. He hadn't suspected, that he would be the first – though, that is to be said, he had thought about it (heehee).

The thing that amazed you the most, was that he seemed to be the less confident. He always wanted to know it he hurt you. Until you met harshly one of his thrust, telling him he wasn't going to break you anytime soon, or at least, not literally. And he had yelped with surprise and joy. And pleasure.

¤

And it all had started like that. With a sad event. A death. Several, actually.

And you can't help a grin when you think that the most amazing love stories you know started that way.

Well, you only know one other. You and Veronica. And it had started with Lily, with your mom. With Cassidy too.

It's somehow comforting to know something good can come of it all.

You're amazed at how your bff is thankful for his second chance. You're amazed at how nice he can be and at how he can get along with Veronica.

You all have changed now, and are all moving out of Neptune. Dude, out to LA. The four of us, and Wallace, of course, since Detective Mars has to have her assistant.

You're all happy. Mac is. Dick is. And you remember the first sign of it.

It was the day after. After he got back from Mac's dorm, the first time they where apart since they got -back ?- together.

You entered the living room and found Dick greeting you while dancing on the loud I Believe In Something Called Love, by Darkness. He had just pants on and was shaking his towel above his head, yelling _'touching meeeeee ! Touching yoooouuuuu !'_ to you.

You smiled, because he was happy. And so funny. And joined the dance. Because you were too.

You think that it all started this way, though you imagine there are other perspective on the breaking point in the time line. But, you know, and you are really proud of it, that it couldn't have gone on without a simple silly party you threw one night.

Because, aaah, you, Logan Echolls, are really irreplaceable.


End file.
